


The Shield and the Letter

by thethinkingfruit



Series: The Tales of Warden Bralinden Aeducan [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Crummy Parenting, F/M, Gen, Unresolved Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-22 22:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6095971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethinkingfruit/pseuds/thethinkingfruit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Sometimes, being a Grey Warden was difficult. Of course, many would laugh at Bralinden Aeducan if she had said that. Compared to many others in Orzammar—well, almost everyone in Orzammar—Bralinden had lived the charmed life. She was loved by the Assembly, got along decently with the majority of those she crossed. But in the end? It did not matter. The universe—the Maker, the Ancestors, or whatever gods were at play—decided that Bralinden’s good fortune was to end."</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Or, when the Warden has issues about her family and their decision making skills and Zevran has a sufficient skill in eavesdropping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shield and the Letter

Sometimes, being a Grey Warden was difficult. Of course, many would laugh at Bralinden Aeducan if she had said that. Compared to many others in Orzammar—well, almost everyone in Orzammar—Bralinden had lived the charmed life. She was loved by the Assembly, got along decently with the majority of those she crossed. But in the end? It did not matter. The universe—the Maker, the Ancestors, or whatever gods were at play—decided that Bralinden’s good fortune was to end.

                She lacked a place. Ever since she was little, when she could barely walk but would sit with her mother during Assembly meetings, she knew her place. She was an Aeducan. A princess. A warrior, fit to serve by her brother, even if he was difficult to deal with.

                And then she was nothing. A kinslayer. An exile. For something she did not even do, to lose one brother in life and to lose another in treachery.

                And the hits just kept coming. Kicked out of Orzammar, losing Gorim to the surface, becoming a Grey Warden, and losing what she hoped would be her new place in one fateful swipe by the Darkspawn.

                Bralinden wondered what she had done wrong. It was in her mind, at most, when they were given a peaceful moment. To ward off such thoughts, she would talk with the others. Their companionship would ward off even the darkest thoughts for a little while. She was no longer an Aeducan; just Bralinden, a Grey Warden.

                But sometimes, the weight was too much. Bralinden and Gorim’s reunion was bittersweet—she had lost her second, but was relieved to see a dear friend doing so well.

                Until he uncovered the shield—the blasted shield, that had caused Bralinden so much trouble—and gave it to her, along with a note from her late father.

                They were camped outside of Denerim. She read it, quietly, away from her bedroll, away from prying eyes, away from the shield, which sat next to her pack turned upside down. Thankfully, no one had recognized its insignia. No one had asked what Gorim meant by, ‘My Lady.’

                But the letter from her father just rubbed salt to the wound.

_Perhaps you will burn this letter unread. For that, I would not blame you. But I would not return to the Stone without saying this to you: I have seen what Bhelen is. And when I saw it, I knew I had been a fool. For only a fool would cut out his own heart and burn it for the sake of appearances. I never believed in your guilt. I allowed you to be exiled because I feared an inquiry into Trian's murder would taint our house with scandal in the eyes of the deshyrs and cost our family the throne._

_But I have saved nothing by this sacrifice: I sent my only child into an uncertain exile. Know that whatever you do now, you bear all the honor and pride of House Aeducan._

                She wanted to tear up the letter but that would have been unsightly. She had to be perfect. Never make a mistake. A princess. A warrior. An Aeducan. She could and would carry the honor and pride.

                But this time, she could not take it, and she trembled. Her fists clenched, nails once clean digging dirt into her palms. She bunched the letter, threw it down, and without thinking, she punched the nearest tree. The pain shot through her arm and she instantly realized her mistake. She drew her arm back, rubbed her knuckles, and for the first time in her life, she swore.

                “Fuck!”

                “I believe that is the first time such a profane word has ever slipped through your lips, Grey Warden,” a voice called cheerfully, accent hardly masking his mild amusement. Bralinden shut her eyes, counted to ten, and wiped the blood starting to pool on the scratches from the bark on her skin. She did not have to look to see who it was.

                "How long have you been standing there, Zevran?"

                “Only a few moments,” he replied, “but I was concerned to find you standing of by yourself. It is unlike you.” She heard him move closer. She could hear him because she could not see him. She knew to wait, and listen. But he did not draw any closer. Instead, she heard him pause. “…Dare I ask what this scrap of paper did to offend you so?” He leaned over, into the mud, and scooped up the paper ball. He was starting to unfold it.

                Bralinden reacted before she thought, almost unheard of for her. She was careful, she was calculating, rash? No. That wasn’t her. But she reached out, grabbed Zevran’s wrist, and plucked the paper wad from his hands, before retreating again. She folded it and tucked it away, ignoring the mud that was going to stain the inside of her pocket. Zevran looked…surprised. That was the only way she could describe it.

                An apology should have followed for her actions. Bralinden knew that. But yet, she could not bring herself to do so. She did not want to explain herself. Words failed her.

                So she turned her back. “It’s nothing.” And she walked off, blood staining her hand, letter burning a hole in her pocket.

                If anyone noticed the odd, unbreakable silence between the two of them in the morning, no one spoke of it. Bralinden preferred it that way for now.


End file.
